James 4:3 You ask, and receive not, because you ask amiss, that you may consume it upon your lusts.
John 5:6 When Jesus saw him lying there, and knew that he already had been in that condition a long time, He said to him, "Do you want to be made well?"
Yeshua (Jesus) asked this man "Do you want to be made well?" Of course, he did! Wouldn't you? Why did Jesus ask a question like this when its answer was so clearly obvious? It seems the Lord wanted to hear him verbalize his need.
In the biography of George Mueller, a strong man of God who established orphanages throughout England in the 1800's and raised the kids up in the nurture and admonition of the Lord, this amazing Saint relied upon God for every single need that he faced without making any financial appeals. He laid before the Lord every aspect of these orphanages. He prayed for the locations, the buildings, the furniture to fill them, the workers to run them, and everything else he could think of. When the first orphanage was ready, Mueller realized one major thing was lacking -- orphans!! He forgot to ask the Lord to provide the orphans!
Sometimes the obvious things just smack us in the face, don't they? On several occasions, I've found myself in this very position! Silly me -- I forgot to ask!
The Lord is asking us today, "Do you want to be made well?" Whether it be physical healing, spiritual, emotional or financial healing, no thing is too great or too small for our Lord! Perhaps we've just forgotten to ask Him!
Copyright 1999-2025 Worthy Devotions. This devotional was originally published on Worthy Devotions and was reproduced with permission.
How to display the above article within the Worthy Suite WordPress Plugin.
[worthy_plugins_devotion_single_body]When the children of Israel wandered in the wilderness for forty years, they traversed a rugged, unpredictable landscape — mile after mile of mountains, valleys, rocks, and desert sands — as they journeyed from slavery in Egypt to the Promised Land.
For many, God remains a theory—an idea borrowed from tradition, deduced from the cosmos, or tucked quietly into the corners of a creed. He is believed in from afar, but is rarely encountered. Even among believers, it’s not uncommon to live with a distant reverence for God while lacking a vibrant, personal communion with Him.
God has always longed for intimacy with us. He formed us for Himself–to walk with Him, to know Him, to delight in His Presence. This is the very heartbeat of creation: relationship, not religion. Yet sin drove a wedge between us. A veil was drawn, shutting out the light of His face and placing distance where there was once communion.
A beachhead is the first critical objective in a military invasion–the spot where a force lands on enemy territory and secures a position for greater advancement. It’s the place of breakthrough. And it’s also the place of fiercest resistance.
David wrote Psalm 3 while running for his life — betrayed, heartbroken, and hunted by his own son, Absalom. The weight of rebellion wasn’t just political; it was personal. His household had turned against him. Friends became foes. Loyal hearts grew cold. The throne he once held was now surrounded by enemies, and the whispers grew louder: “There is no salvation for him in God.”
Psalm 2 is a divine announcement — a heavenly decree that demands the world’s attention. It begins with a question: “Why do the nations rage, and the peoples plot in vain?” (Ps. 2:1). The nations rise up, not against injustice or tyranny, but against the rule of God’s Meshiach (Messiah). That Anointed is Yeshua — the Son whom the Father has set on His holy hill in Zion (Ps. 2:6). The psalm strips away all pretense and exposes the heart of human rebellion: it is a refusal to be ruled by His Messiah.
Psalm 1 opens with a sobering warning about the quiet, deadly slide into sin. The man without God doesn’t become a scorner overnight — he drifts there gradually. First, he walks in ungodly counsel, entertaining worldly thoughts. Then, he stands in the path of sinners, embracing their way of life. Finally, he sits in the seat of the scornful, hardened in heart and mocking what is sacred. This progression — from a man without God to scorner — reveals how small compromises grow into full rebellion, dulling the conscience and deadening the soul.